


Rope Me In And Smoke Me

by astrangerfate, orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Handcuffs, M/M, Spanking, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-05
Updated: 2008-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerfate/pseuds/astrangerfate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“In short,” Dean continues loudly, “you’re going to take your spanking like a good little boy. And if you behave during your spanking, maybe I’ll let you come afterwards.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rope Me In And Smoke Me

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, make no money, and am deeply ashamed.

They stumble back to the motel room, and Sam’s exhausted but laughing as he leans into Dean, starts groping his older brother through the tight jeans. Dean laughs too as he smacks Sam’s hands away. “Whoa, tiger, it’s four in the afternoon,” he points out. The sun is bright behind them, and the four kids bouncing eagerly around the minivan in the parking lot are sending them curious looks. “Save it for the bedroom.” He bends over to turn the old-fashioned metal key in the lock, and Sam takes the opportunity to swat him on the butt.

“What the—” he shouts, jumping away from something much too hefty to be called a love tap. They’re definitely attracting some attention now, and he kicks the door open and shoves Sam inside, slamming it behind him and blinking as his eyes adjust to the darkened motel room. Sam smiles innocently, and Dean frowns.

“I think you need a reminder of who’s in charge here,” he growls, taking a seat on the nearest bed and patting his knee. “Get your ass over here.”

Sam saunters over with the same smug look on his face, and Dean’s tempted to smack it off, but he’s more anxious to get to the floorshow. As soon as Sam’s within reach, he hooks his fingers into the belt loops of Sam’s faded jeans and tugs the kid into place over his lap. The pressure mounts against his left thigh as he smacks down, hard, across the middle of Sam’s butt.

“You’ve been stepping outta line lately, Sammy,” he says, slipping into the drawl that comes out when he’s completely relaxed. He lands a second swat in the same place, feeling the rough denim against his palm. Those jeans are going to have to go, and soon. “Why?” He punctuates the question with another slap, and Sam squirms in response.

“I don’t know. Guess I just got…bored.” Sam’s voice is shy, pitched higher than normal with a whine just underneath the simple words.

“You’ve been asking for a spanking for a while now, haven’t you?” Dean lays two swats to Sam’s thighs, and Sam arches his back.

“Maybe. What are you gonna do about it?” Sam asks, wriggling a little across Dean’s knees. Dean spanks him again, then taps his butt.

“Get up.”

Sam obeys, worried eyes scanning Dean’s face. Once when Dean had been particularly annoyed, he’d decided _not_ to give Sam a spanking. He’d rolled over, jerked off and gone to sleep without paying his little brother any attention, and in Sam’s mind that remains the worst hell imaginable. He shifts from foot to foot, resisting the impulse to rub away the sting in his backside.

“Strip,” Dean directs, and Sam gives a blinding smile. He starts slowly, toying with the buttons on his jacket and peeling it off carefully, setting it gently on the bed.

“Hurry up,” Dean hisses through his teeth. “I want you completely naked and back over my knee by the time I count to ten. One.”

Sam speeds it up then, shedding his undershirt, jeans and boxers by the time Dean gets to “nine” in slow, measured numbers, but he places himself across Dean’s lap with his socks still on. There’s a hole in the left heel, and Sam twitches the foot lying on the burgundy bedspread, subtly calling attention to this tiny act of defiance.

Dean grits his teeth in frustration. Then, grinning, he parts his knees so that Sam’s dick loses contact with his legs. He leans over and strips the dingy white socks from Sam’s feet without saying a word.

“You know you just disobeyed a direct order,” he remarks. Sam squirms in response, trying to gain some friction against his dick, and Dean lands a firm smack across Sam’s ass, tinged with pink.

“So this just went from a maintenance spanking to a punishment spanking,” he concludes in satisfaction. “You don’t touch your dick. You don’t rub up against me, and you don’t make noises.”

Sam goes rigid across his lap. “Dean—” he whispers, all traces of cockiness gone form his voice.

“In short,” Dean continues loudly, “you’re going to take your spanking like a good little boy. And if you behave during your spanking, maybe I’ll let you come afterwards.”

Sam makes a low noise in the back of his throat, and Dean smacks him lightly. “No noises, Sam. If you don’t behave, I’m going to have to cuff you.”

“Dean,” Sam gasps, and Dean shakes his head, even though Sam can’t see it.

“Last warning, Sammy. The next time you make a sound, there are going to be some serious consequences.”

With that he starts spanking Sam for real, swinging his hand like a fucking paddle and closing his eyes in bliss at the sound of the impact, the way Sam’s flesh shudders under his palm. He doesn’t have to look to know exactly where the next blow will land.

He loses himself in spanking Sam, who’s still unusually stiff, trying his hardest not to moan or squirm the way he normally does when Dean spanks him. Because as much as Dean loves seeing the handcuffs flush against Sam’s slender wrists, loves rubbing away the red lines after he removes them and taking Sam’s fingers into his mouth, Sam’s always been nervous about having the restraints on. It probably comes from years of hastily adjusting clothing and springing to their own beds when Dad pulled up in the driveway—to this day they’re both always alert for intruders, even as they sleep.

After a few minutes of the punishing smacks, however, Sam can’t resist a guttural moan and thrust of his hips that stop Dean in his tracks. He looks down. Sam has clamped a hand over his mouth, frozen solid again, but it’s too late.

“I told you what would happen if you were a bad boy during your spanking, Sammy,” Dean says with transparent reluctance. “Now you’re going to have to bring me my handcuffs.” He smacks Sam’s ass, now blooming red with his handprints. “They’re in my duffel. And if you move one finger to your ass or your cock, I’m going to make you bring me my paddle too.”

Sam’s eyes are shining as he picks himself up, but his cock is pointing skyward and Dean can see a glimmer of precome at the head. He brings his burning hand down to stroke himself through his jeans as Sam bends over the bag, presenting his well-spanked ass. Dean frowns, caught between wanting to stand up and just fuck Sam now and the temptation of Sam’s hands lying at the small of his back as Dean finishes the spanking.

But he’s promised Sam a real punishment spanking, and he’s not going to stop until the wetness in Sam’s eyes turns into a stream of tears running down the long nose and soaking into the quilt, except for the ones that Sam’s tongue catches on the way.

“Bring them here,” he says firmly as Sam stands rooted to the spot, staring at the handcuffs. He’s pleasantly surprised to see when Sam turns that the very idea of the cuffs is enough to make the first tears trickle down Sam’s cheeks.

Sam trudges back to his side, holding the cuffs out with shaking hands. Dean takes them and spins Sam around gently. Sam holds his hands back without being asked, and Dean snaps the cuffs in place.

“I want you to count these out,” he says, guiding Sam back over his lap. Sam nods his understanding.

The spanks are lighter now, just waiting to push Sam over the edge. It’s not going to take much. He smacks the reddened skin, hears Sam gasp.

“O-one,” Sam stammers, and his voice is thick.

The next one. “Two.” Dean falls into a rhythm, sound slaps against Sam’s upturned backside and the tearful count from his younger brother. Sam is squirming now but Dean doesn’t say anything, just keeps delivering firm swats to the undercurve of Sam’s bottom.

“Twelve,” Sam manages, his voice dangerously close to breaking.

Dean makes the next three hard and fast, not giving Sam time to count or even catch his breath between them, and sure enough when he drops his hand to his side Sam is shuddering, his shoulders rising and falling with quiet sobs.

“Are you going to be a good boy now?” he asks low in Sam’s ear.

“Y—yeah,” Sam chokes, grinding his hips against Dean’s legs in rhythm with his tears.

“That’s my Sammy.” Dean runs a hand over the hot skin, caressing his little brother. He twists the dials on the handcuffs and they click open. He places them carefully on the floor before taking Sam’s hands in his, massaging the wrists.

“Are you okay, Sam?” he asks, willing to take no for an answer but hoping for a yes.

Sam sniffles loudly, but he twists his head around to give Dean a watery smile. “Uh huh,” he promises. “But I—Dean, I—can you please—”

“Well, I don’t know,” Dean responds casually. “I did have to handcuff you. Do you think you deserve to be fucked?”

Sam nods hopefully. “ _Please,_ Dean?” he asks, and how can Dean say no to a face like that?

“Off my knee,” he commands, and Sam is standing up and bending over the bed almost before Dean can unzip his fly. He wiggles his ass at Dean, and Dan’s almost tempted to make it a dry run. But Sam’s already gotten enough rough treatment for today, he decides, and so he slicks up his fingers with the nearest available liquid, which turns out to be the travel lotion provided by the hotel. It’s unscented, without any of the oils that might burn unnecessarily. Thoughtful of them.

He slips his index finger in, and Sam gives a little mew as he finds the prostate and pushes. The middle finger is next and he pushes a little deeper, exploring. Sam gives an encouraging moan as he inserts a third finger.

“Deeeean,” Sam begs, and that’s all he was waiting for. He removes his fingers, ignoring the sticky plop, and he moves them around to grasp Sam’s dick as he guides his own into Sam’s open hole. He moves in slowly, all the while stroking Sam in the front, and Sam pushes back into him, the noises he makes assuring Dean that they’re both ready. He picks up the speed after a minute and begins thrusting in rhythm with his fingers.

Sam comes first, a moment of quiet, shuddering ecstasy the leaves his anus tightening around Dean involuntarily. Dean doesn’t mind a little pressure, but he nips Sam’s neck as a warning. This only serves to turn both of them on even more, and Sam lets out a soft little gasp as Dean’s fingers leave the base of his cock to grip Sam’s hips as he comes inside Sam’s ass.

He moves out after a minute, taking Sam into his arms. Sam buries his head in Dean’s chest. And true, maybe he’s not the type for cuddling, but he knows how much it means to Sam, how his little brother needs the reassurances and the contact. They sink down onto the squeaking bed, legs tangling together as Sam pulls at Dean’s shirt, trying to get it out of the way.

“I love you, Dean,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I was so bad you had to spank me.”

And fuck if that isn’t enough to make Dean half-hard again.

“That’s why I’m here, Sammy,” he says, wrapping his arms around Sam’s. “Because I love you too. I even love you enough to spank you when you deserve it.”

“You’re the best big brother in the world,” Sam offers, smiling dreamily up at him, and Dean drops a kiss on the top of Sam’s head.

“You’re not so bad yourself, when you’re not being a pain in the ass,” he retorts. And Sam doesn’t reply, just melts into his skin like he’s never going to move. And honestly, Dean would be okay with that.


End file.
